When I Get Part Of You
by OnesWhoUseYou
Summary: Ivan never thought he would get anything more out of his scuffles with Cody than bloody knuckles and a cathartic release of tension. He was pleasantly surprised. Russia/Australia


Somehow, suddenly, yet so very gradually at the same time we have become something of a couple. Only not a couple, not a real one, only maybe we are? Couples don't have to pretend like they're not together, though, but I suppose I've never really been good at defining this sort of thing.

I think Cody likes the adrenaline rush he gets from the secrecy. The sneaking around, the risk of getting caught… maybe he fools around with me for the same reason he jumps into swamps and wrestles crocodiles. He likes the danger.

But I don't claim to understand him (or anyone, if I'm being perfectly honest; once upon a time I could figure people out so easily but now they've become strange and alien and it hurts my head), and really, I don't care to. He's entitled to his own reasons and motives just as I am entitled to mine.

(He's handsome. He's funny. I miss having someone special to do this with. I miss being someone special. Why not?)

(That last one isn't really a reason as much as an excuse, but let's not get into semantics.)

No one ever says a word when I stand up and leave the meeting hall (it's funny, really, because if anyone else tried that someone would yell at them or elbow them or drag them back to their chair, and I wonder why they let me go without a fuss?), as I now do on a regular basis. It works out for me so I've no reason to complain. Cody, on the other hand, waits to be dismissed along with all the others, as we agreed he should without ever really talking about it. I think that's another reason why I like him.

My limbs are a bit stiff from waiting in one position for so long when he finally joins me in the broom cupboard, but that's okay because he always seems happy to take the initiative. Once the door closes he grabs me by my scarf (I really wish he wouldn't do that; it's quite old now and prone to tearing and I would be quite cross if he were to rip my sister's present) and hauls me down for a kiss. Not a soft kiss, or a gentle kiss, or a kiss that says 'hello, it's quite nice to spend some one-on-one time with you'. He kisses me like he fights, with teeth and passion and a smarmy grin spread across that handsome face of his.

Being with him is always like fighting, with less trying to get away and more trying to get as close to each other as possible. Cody bites me and lets me bite him, and when I push him against the door he makes the very same noise as when I break my knuckles on his jawbone. I love that noise. It makes it difficult to distinguish when he's in pain and when he's enjoying himself but I'm starting to think that they might be the same thing.

He feels so small and soft and vulnerable beneath me, between me and the door, and sometimes I like to wonder what it would feel like to break him into pieces. I wouldn't, though, of course I wouldn't, good boys don't do such naughty things, and neither do good boyfriends. (Or sort-of boyfriends, not-really boyfriends, secret boyfriends.)

It's sort of like breaking him, though, when he eventually melts and wraps his arms around my shoulders, no longer smug as it's difficult to be when you're groaning into someone's mouth.

Whether I'm breaking him or not really doesn't matter and it gets really hard to think the longer I have Cody writhing against me. Not that I ever really stop thinking, it's just my brain starts focusing more on how I would like very much to get into those torn and tattered trousers.

(I think it's the same pair every time. He wore a suit to a meeting once because Arthur paid him to and he was so busy complaining about how uncomfortable it was I barely had any time to use that mouth the way I wanted to.)

Cody always makes me stop when I try to undress him, though. 'Not here,' he tells me, between deep gulps of air heavy with sweat and heat and cleaning fluids. 'Not here, stop, we have to stop.'

Sometimes I pretend not to hear him. I like how he feels against me and I would like it even more if he was wearing significantly less clothing, but then he puts on his serious voice and shoves at my shoulders and I know I have to stop. If I don't stop he will get upset and won't let me kiss him any more and I don't want that to happen.

We have to put a good amount of space between us in order to calm down, or as much space as two people can find in a small, crowded broom cupboard. We never talk, or look at each other. We just breathe. I find it much easier to calm down after a fight than after something like this.

That's when the smug expression returns, once Cody is done panting and straightening out his clothes, and he looks so much like his brother then it's a little infuriating (it looks better on him, I think). He makes some sarcastic little quip and tweaks my nose, and I snap at his fingers. We smile and laugh and it makes the tiny room feel a bit more comfortable.

I want to ask him if he'll stay a little longer, or if he'll come with me back to my hotel. But even I realise that would be crossing some line he's not yet willing to cross, so I just tell him to have a good evening as he ducks out of the cupboard.

And then I'm alone in the dark again, lips and fingers and body still tingling, listening to Cody's footsteps fade away and feeling strangely warm and cold at the same time.


End file.
